


Massage

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Massage, Sharing a Bed, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23901592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Sharing a berth was still weird.
Relationships: Lockdown/Tyrest (Transformers)
Kudos: 4





	Massage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rothinsel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rothinsel/gifts).



> [First posted to Tumblr on April 4, 2015 as “Massage.” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on April 28, 2020. Original notes have been kept.]
> 
> Wrote a little Tyrest & Lockdown fluff/tension for rothinsel~ Hope you like it! :D

Sharing a berth was still weird.

Lockdown rolled on his side, his head on his arm. Fragging in a berth wasn’t totally unheard of, but hanging around afterwards was an entirely new world. No one you paid wanted you to stick around, and quick frags with other ‘cons were just that—quick frags. Do your thing, get a hit, and leave. Easy. Lockdown tapped his finger on the berth as Tyrest hummed beside him.

Now he was invited for the whole night.

They fragged, Tyrest did some reading, and then they slept. Same berth. All night. It messed with Lockdown’s mind somewhat. No one’d ever wanted to spend that much time with Lockdown. His fellows barely gave him the time for a quick frag with his “ugly mug” and all. And yet—this guy.

Tyrest.

“You seem upset about something,” Tyrest asked, optics still trapped in the book. “Whatever could be the matter?”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Lockdown said, staying turned away. “Just thinking.”

“Hmmm,” Tyrest said. He clicked his datapad off, setting it aside on the shelf next to the berth. “Sounds like awfully loud thinking.”

“Why? Was I mumbling?” Lockdown asked.

Tyrest laughed, before turning. He lightly pressed Lockdown’s shoulder, and the mercenary laid on his stomach. Tyrest tapped a spot on his back, and Lockdown shivered.

“It’s far too late, and we should both be far more relaxed after earlier activities for your mind to be whirling about so much,” Tyrest cooed. He pressed his hands into Lockdown’s back plating, and moved his fingers about. He massaged into the metal around Lockdown’s spikes with delicious pressure. “So, why don’t I help you out a bit, hmm?”

“Ah,” Lockdown stared at the berth as Tyrest shifted. He saw the shadow of Tyrest’s back wings on the berth as the other mech extended them. Lockdown swallowed, feeling the weight of his much larger boss land on the back of his legs. “What did ya’ have in mind?”

“I was thinking a cool down massage,” Tyrest said, digging his thumbs into Lockdown’s joints. He rolled his thumbs under Lockdown’s plates in small circles, and Lockdown groaned. “Does wonders for shutting down your mind.”

“Turning something else on, though,” Lockdown wheezed, shifting a little on the bed. Tyrest dug his fingers into another plate, and he sucked in a heavy take of air. “That feels really good.”

“It’s supposed to be relaxing,” Tyrest said, leaning down. The shadow of his wings moved across the bed as they flexed. Lockdown stared at them, almost mesmerized by the light going through the separate pieces. Tyrest leaned up, shifting his grip to massage the upper part of Lockdown’s shoulders. “So relax, no need to get the engine revving over something like this.”

Lockdown shoved his cheek into the berth when Tyrest scooted up to sit closer to his aft. Contact was made as Tyrest rocked back and forth with his arms as he massaged Lockdown’s neck and shoulders.

“Feel good?” Tyrest asked next to the side of Lockdown’s cheek. He reached down, patting the side of Lockdown’s chest before rubbing a small circle. Tyrest flicked a spike, and chuckled. “You look like you’re melting.”

“Really, really, good,” Lockdown said. He grunted, and turned. It wasn’t fair only seeing shadows. He wanted to see that smug slagger getting him all worked up. Tyrest laughed, and pushed him back down to stay face first in the bed. “Hey! I want up.”

“No,” Tyrest said. He shifted his hands down to Lockdown’s waist, and hell if he didn’t squeeze. “I’m here to relax you.”

“And failing,” Lockdown chuckled, with a loose cough. “So let me up.”

“Ah, if you think I’m doing so horribly, I suppose I’ll stop,” Tyrest said. He hummed, lightly and Lockdown took in a breath when Tyrest slipped off his back. Lockdown gaped as Tyrest sat down next to him and slid into a lying position. He tapped Lockdown on the nose with his finger and turned toward the other wall. “I’ll see you in the morning then. Try not to stay awake too long with all those loud thoughts.”

“Hey,” Lockdown said, sitting up. His pumps were active, his spark was pulsing and he was going to sleep!? “You’re not serious are you?”

“Sweet night, Lockdown,” Tyrest said.

Lockdown stared at the exposed back. So open, so ready to be shoved into the berth and be taken. So fragging trusting.

Trusting.

The whole reason Cons didn’t share berths.

Lockdown whined, lying back down and covering the back of his head. He sighed into the berth and tried to cool his systems. Tyrest trusted him. Trusted him. Lockdown couldn’t deal with this.

He violently flickered off his optics and willed himself into recharge. He’d sleep it off and everything would be well.

Tyrest rolled over, spooning up against Lockdown’s back. He wrapped an arm around Lockdown’s waist and nuzzled his face into a spiky neck.

Lockdown sighed, listening to that smug chuckle and settled down into the loose hug. He could deal with this. He’d just have to get Tyrest back later.

That smug mug of Tyrest’s wouldn’t look so great once Lockdown jumped him in the hallway tomorrow during the middle of work.

Yeah, that’d be the ticket.

Surprise frag in the hallway.

Lockdown laughed to himself, shutting off his optics and falling into recharge.


End file.
